


Pops' Chair

by NHarmonic



Series: Whitebeard Pirates [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Gen, Whitebeard Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NHarmonic/pseuds/NHarmonic
Summary: Summary: Ace wasn't one for art or carving, but Pops' chair was truly a work of art, nearly as old as the Whitebeard crew's creation. You'll never guess who carved it! I'll give you a hint, his name starts with an 'M'...





	

Let’s set the scene! Open sea; soft rushing water against the wooden hull of the beloved _Moby Dick_ ; clear skies. Safe waters, for once, on the usually treacherous currents of the New World. Over all, a beautiful, peaceful day for the Whitebeard pirates. All of Whitebeard’s sons were on the ship, going about their business. One in particular, was on the deck’s second floor, sitting on his rump, near Whitebeard’s throne.

Ace tilted his head, totally mesmerized by the sight before him. Whitebeard’s chair was super old, like almost as old as the family, but strong, and beautiful, made of red mahogany wood and coated with shiny lacquer. What caught Ace’s attention the most, however, were the intricate carvings on the sides of the throne.

Ace wasn't one for art or carving, but Whitebeard’s chair was truly a work of art. The throne was covered in the most intricate wood carvings Ace had ever seen. On the sides, there were carvings that seemed to have a pattern; starting out with a man that Ace assumed was Whitebeard. If Ace looked carefully, he could see the story within the wood.

The man was sad, or lonely, standing alone on a ship that was in open waters. Continuing, the man was joined by a dog and a small child, and they were all smiling. Then next, another boy joined, then a large man, who Ace thought was Jozu, and soon there were a total of sixteen figures; the commanders. The carvings go on to show different scenarios; freedom of slavery with Namur, fan-dancing with Izou, flying with what must have been Marco. There were so many.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ace jumped and looked up. “Pops,” he said in surprise, then looked down and back up. “Uh-uh,” he confirmed.

“Gurarara,” Whitebeard chuckled, peering down from his seat. “This chair depicts the beginning of this family.”

Ace looked at them again and Whitebeard continued, pointing to different carvings. “This is young man here is Jiru, and there is Haruta when he was still Haruka,” he said, “And this is Rakuyo when he found Macy.”

“And this is Marco?” Ace asked, pointing at the smiling child.

Whitebeard grinned with a nod. “That is Marco,” he confirmed, smiling softly in memory.

“Wow,” Ace breathed, looking at them all, then he frowned and tilted his head. “Who made these?” he asked curiously.

Whitebeard smiled softly, stroking the arm of the chair. “Why don’t you look at the back,” he said, changing the subject.

Ace’s eyebrows furrowed before he stood and complied. Whitebeard pulled his captain’s coat from the back and Ace gasped, his eyes widened.

“Everyone,” he whispered in awe and Whitebeard smiled.

In the back, really small but there, was everyone, literally. Just taking up half of the giant chair, were carvings of everyone crew member, dead and alive, on the back of the seat. They were all smiling, and touching in some way, like holding hands, or leaning on each other, or shouldering each other. They all looked so happy.

Ace followed the small carvings, silently naming everyone he knew until he reaches the end. He paused, frowning. His crew was added, all expertly carved and painted with lacquer, each smiling with their new siblings. Ace looked again and came up empty handed. He wasn’t on it. Why? Wasn’t he a part of this crew? Of this family?

Ace looked at his father and Whitebeard ruffled his hair in assurance.

“The artist wanted to finish something else before adding you,” Whitebeard said, and gestured to the last side of the throne.

Once again, Ace moved, to look at the final side; he froze in shock. There he was, alone; a story beside him. His carving was just standing there, holding his face in his hands, like he was crying, and his body was surrounded by a plume of flames; a wall against the world. The next scene showed Ace again in that position, but his wall was being breached, by Marco, who had his hand on the other’s shoulder. Wood-Ace was looking up, his face shocked, and beside Marco’s carving was a small carving with Marco’s head, which was smiling so happily.

The next scene, Whitebeard was on his knee, tightly hugging Ace to his chest; wood-Ace still had a shocked expression as he was smothered with love. The next scene, wood-Ace was being shown affection by the rest of the crew, Thatch, ruffling his hair; wood-Ace was smiling slightly. Next, wood-Ace’s bare back was to everyone, showing his mark. Finally, Marco was in his phoenix form, glancing behind himself, where wood-Ace was standing. Wood-Ace was split in half, one side lit by his flames and smirking, the other smiling and shouldering Thatch, who had his fingers up in peace.

Ace, the real Ace, jolted when his face was wiped; he was crying. “Sorry,” Ace muttered, rubbing his face of the tears.

“Gurarara. This is one of my favorites,” Whitebeard said, ruffling Ace’s hair, “Now I have the stories for all of my commanders with me; everyone will know the beginning of this great family.”

Ace smiled, holding the warm finger on his head. “Oyaji, yoi,” a lazy voice said.

Ace paused and turned in surprise; Marco was walking up the steps. “Oyaji,” the phoenix said again, “I came to-.”

Marco paused in embarrassed surprise when he saw that Ace was there as well; flushing slightly as his eyes met Ace’s. Ace stared at the first commander in shock as he looked from the carving to the tool-belt around Marco's waist; filled to the brim with carving tools. Ace gasped softly.

“You?” he asked in shocked.

Marco blushed, looking up as he idly scratched his chin. “Yea; and?” he asked, red-faced.

Marco grunted as he was suddenly hugged tightly; he glanced at his newest brother in surprise. “Ace?” he asked.

Ace smiled, hugging the phoenix tighter. “Thanks for never giving up on me,” he said sincerely, squeezing tighter.

Marco chuckled, patting the fire fist's back. “I couldn’t let you miss out on this, yoi,” he said easily. “I knew you’d regret it forever.”

Marco pulled away from his brother, gesturing towards Pops and his chair. “Come on,” he said, grinning,  “You can model for your carving, yoi.”

Ace nodded happily. “You better get my good side,” he joked, following.

Whitebeard smiling, watched his two sons while listening as the two talked animatedly about nothing, liked they’d been brothers forever. Almost reverently, Whitebeard swiped his thumb over an old, worn carving on top of his right chair-arm. A kanji lovingly, carved into the mahogany by a novice and smoothed down from the constant rubbing. It said, “Thank you for my new family, love Marco”.

 _“You’re wrong Marco,”_ Whitebeard thought, smiling softly. _“It is you I should be thanking; all of you.”_


End file.
